


lose my heart again each time I hear your name

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Commander Rogers, Fix-It, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Tony and Steve used to have sex sometimes, no strings attached. Steve was okay with that, really. But now he's Commander Rogers, Tony doesn't remember the war that tore them apart, and oh, he's also accused of committing a murder. Steve's supposed to keep an eye on him, but being in close quarters with Tony once again proves more difficult than he imagined.





	lose my heart again each time I hear your name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faite/gifts).



> Look, I have no excuses. This is utterly self-indulgent, because sad and horny Commander Rogers is great.
> 
> It's written for 2018 Marvel Bang. We signed up as a tandem with the wonderful [Faite](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/), and this fic is a team effort from first idea through caps-locky brainstorming until writing the last sentence! You can see her art [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575257) and it's AMAZING. There's also a teaser post [on tumblr](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/post/179973768574/lose-my-heart-again-each-time-i-hear-your-name-by).
> 
> Thanks for the beta to [runningondreams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/runningondreams), you're a life saver!
> 
> Additional content warning: there's one noncon kiss.

Before anything else, before even stripping out of his ruined uniform, Steve washes the blood off his face. 

He’d wiped the worst of it off before, on the flight back, but there are still dry specks clinging to his cheeks and forehead. He splashes his face with cold water until he looks more like himself again and his cheeks are red from all the rubbing instead. Satisfied, he finally takes off his uniform and throws it in the garbage bin. It’s beyond saving; he’ll need a new one instead, and the SHIELD supply agents will poke and prod at him, helplessly trying to sew him something _better_.

It used to be easy. It used to be that Steve didn’t even need to _say_ anything. Tony would notice—Tony always noticed—and he’d fix small issues or make him a new suit even before touching his own armour. Sometimes, he would need to _measure_ Steve, and that always ended in—

“Fuck.”

Steve stops himself from putting his fist through the shower tiles, but barely. Annoyed, he turns the water icy cold. He refuses to touch himself thinking about Tony. He refuses to _think_ about Tony, really, but that always proves impossible. Tony, with his clever mouth and nimble fingers, knowing how to drive Steve insane; Tony, with his genius brain and enormous heart, always working for the better future; Tony, with his easy smiles a mask better than Iron Man’s, lying to Steve and working on SHRA behind his back.

Tony doesn’t remember. Steve’s supposed to put it behind him. He can’t.

He stays in the shower for a long time; when he gets out, he dries himself with quick, efficient movements, puts on workout clothes—they’re soft and comfy and what he needs after five days of dealing with Hydra cells away from civilisation—and sits down to read through his accumulated reports. Steve would like nothing more than to sleep, but Commander Rogers cannot shirk his responsibilities like that.

Hoping the reports will be fast and boring, he reaches for the first one, fully intending to skim through it. 

_Released from custody—death of a known villain—Tony Stark_

Steve freezes. Forcing himself to relax his grip before he shreds the report to pieces, he starts reading again, slowly, word by word, willing the page to start making sense.

It doesn’t.

_Tony Stark, arrested on 16th June. Tony Stark, released from SHIELD custody 48 hours later when no new evidence was found. Tony Stark, still under investigation. Tony Stark—_

Steve reaches for his phone.

***

Steve walks through the helicarrier corridors at a brisk pace. He’s vaguely aware other agents are moving out of his way, saluting hurriedly, but he pays them no attention. He reaches Maria Hill’s office and barges inside.

“Why did no one inform me,” he says without inflection.

She raises her eyes at him. She doesn’t ask what he’s talking about. “You insist on leading these missions yourself, Commander. It wasn’t of immediate concern.”

“Tony Stark is always—” he cuts himself off, snapping his mouth shut so hard his teeth hurt. It’s too late, though, his meaning obvious, and Maria Hill’s smile is mocking. 

“The Avengers are my responsibility,” she says. “And when it comes to Stark, you’re compromised. Sir.”

Steve’s hands curl into fists at his side. _Compromised_ sounds like an insult, a knife to the gut worse for the fact that he can’t even plausibly deny it. _That’s why you keep her near you_ , he reminds himself. _To call you out when no one else would_. 

But he doesn’t like it, and it’s about Tony, dammit. 

“Next time something like this happens,” he says, “I want to know _immediately_.”

Maria Hill opens her mouth.

“That’s an order,” Steve says. “And now tell me what the hell happened. The real thing, not the abridged version that you deemed safe for my _compromised eyes_.”

She sighs, clearly annoyed. “There’s not much more,” she says. “Blizzard was found dead. Stark was brought in. He gave us nothing. We had to let him go.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, waits.

“Part of Stark’s tech was found at the scene,” she says. 

Steve frowns. “That sounds rather like someone’s framing him.” He hates that he finds himself defending Tony when he wants to shake the man every time he sees him, but he refuses to believe Tony’s a murderer. 

Then again, before the war, he wouldn’t have thought Tony was capable of many other things, too. Extremis _had_ changed Tony, and even if Tony claims it’s gone, Steve’s not so sure. He’s seen Tony’s new armour.

And he saw Tony kill Mallen, too. Is that really something that can go away?

“Yeah,” she agrees. “If Stark had gone and killed someone in cold blood, he sure as hell could’ve hidden his involvement better than that.” She tilts her head. “Actually, we probably never would’ve even found the body.”

Steve chuckles. She’s right there. 

“And if it had been an accident, he’d be sick with guilt,” she adds.

That’s true, too, but Steve’s surprised she knows Tony well enough to say that. 

“So?” he asks.

“He doesn’t have alibi,” she says. “Refuses to cooperate.”

Yeah, that sounds exactly like Tony fucking Stark. Because he always knows best. Better than the law, better than Steve. He doesn’t need to explain himself, because it’s not like anyone’s smart enough to understand him. He doesn’t care about anyone, because his choices are the only right ones.

Maybe they should’ve kept him in that cell.

“Did he say _anything_?”

“No.” She rolls her eyes. “He didn’t even demand a lawyer.”

Ah, right, Tony Stark just doesn’t need any help, ever, period. Steve tells himself to _stay calm_ , but it might be too late for that. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

“Sir, that’s—”

 _A terrible idea_ , Steve finishes for himself, and yeah, probably, but he needs to do it. “Maybe he’ll give me something.”

Her unimpressed look tells him exactly how likely she thinks that is.

She might be right.

***

 _Advice_ to keep to New York was, obviously, not enough to actually stop Tony doing anything, and so Steve takes the quinjet to Seattle. Tony’s out of his house, clearly expectant when Steve lands, but Steve knows he can’t blame the SHIELD engineers for being unable to hide from Tony’s radar. 

He doesn’t waste time getting out of the quinjet. He jogs out of the jet to face Tony.

Tony’s got his chin raised, as if he’s already ready to fight. He’s wearing a tank top, meaning he must’ve been in his workshop. The RT node is visible through it, making Steve vaguely uneasy. He knows the device is what keeps Tony alive, but it’s just one more thing that makes him more like a machine than a man. 

“I was surprised you weren’t there at SHIELD,” Tony says as a hello.

“I have other things to do than babysitting you, Stark,” Steve snarls, immediately on edge.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you here now?”

This is all wrong. Steve doesn’t _want_ to be arguing with Tony, but he doesn’t know how to speak to him normally. Feels like he hasn’t known it for years. It’s Tony’s fault, he thinks viciously: the war, the mess they’re in, _the fact that he’s a fucking murder suspect and hasn’t done a single thing to help clear his own name_.

“I want to talk,” Steve says. 

Tony doesn’t relax his stance. “About?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I told your agents everything,” Tony says. “I have nothing else to add for you. But for the record, _interrogate_ and _talk_ are not synonyms.”

“You told my agents _nothing_ ,” Steve corrects. “You’re still a suspect, for God’s sake, Stark, are you _trying_ to be difficult?”

“Isn’t my mere existence difficult for you these days?” Tony asks. 

Is there anyone else who can get Steve this worked up this fast?

“Let me help,” Steve says. “They found your tech at the side.”

Tony looks at him, unimpressed. “There _was_ some of my tech there. But let’s be honest, Steve, you’ve been waiting for an excuse to lock me up since the war.”

Steve advances on him, wanting to shake him or scream in his face or do _anything_ to make him listen. Tony stands his ground, and Steve stops one step away, his hands at his sides. “Are you suggesting I _planted it_?”

“I’m suggesting _someone else did_.” Tony breathes rapidly. “Or stole it. I don’t remember many things. I don’t know what I was working on as Director of SHIELD. I don’t—I don’t know what happened to my tech later.”

“There was a time before the war when you didn’t know what you did, too,” Steve says, and only as the words leave his mouth does he realise what _exactly_ he’s just suggested. It’s too late to take it back, now, and it’s not like it’s _not_ a possibility, and Tony looks at him like Steve just slapped him.

It might’ve been better if Steve _had_ , instead.

“We’re done here, Steve,” Tony says after a moment. He turns around, and Steve acts without thinking, grabs him by his arm and stops him in place.

“Tony . . .”

“Let go of me, Commander Rogers.”

His armour covers his arm, flowing from his skin, as alien as every time Steve has seen it so far—but never from this close up, because they weren’t on good enough terms for Tony to show off his new armour when he made it. Tony uses the additional strength to wrench his hand out of Steve’s grasp, but he doesn’t leave. Instead he stands there, his right arm encased in red metal, all but daring Steve to touch him again.

They’d fought, once, and they’d levelled New York around them. There’s nothing to destroy here apart from trees and Tony’s modern, expensive house, but Steve’s not doing it again. He’s not doing anything like that ever again, no matter how good Tony is at raising his shackles. 

But he’s not letting Tony walk out on him, either. This is _important_. Tony needs help, even if he can’t see it himself.

“You _don’t_ know what’s best every time,” he enunciates. “You _can’t_ do everything alone. You tried with SHRA.”

“I don’t remember!” Tony yells at him.

“And that’s the problem!”

If Tony remembered, they could _talk_ , or scream at each other, more probably, but Steve would learn his _reasons_. There would be a _closure_. And Steve wouldn’t be the only one who has to go on with all his memories of their friendship shattered.

“Well,” Tony drawls through clenched teeth. “In this precise situation, I think it’s you accusing me of murder that’s the problem.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Steve says through gritted teeth. “I told you, you’re still a suspect, you—”

“You don’t need to be here,” Tony says. “Pretty sure you have the world to run. And I have my own tech to track, so unless you really believe _I_ am going around killing people, _you can go_.”

“Get what you need from here,” Steve says, “and get back to New York _by noon tomorrow_ , and report to me when you do.”

Tony opens his mouth, obviously to protest, and Steve glares at him. “ _Tony_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Tony snaps.

Steve watches as he goes back inside his house, and then he returns to his quinjet.

The knowledge that he hasn’t accomplished anything at all is a bitter taste in his mouth.

***

Steve returns to New York more annoyed than he was when going to see Tony. There used to be a time when he had an easy outlet to work out his differences with Tony, a clash of mouths and hands desperately tearing at clothes . . . Then again, look where that led them to, in the end.

He should've hauled Tony back with him, but it's _Tony_. Whatever else he is, he is full of good intentions. That he excuses the completely unforgivable because of that is another thing entirely, but . . . Tony lied to him about the SHRA for months. He's good at hiding stuff, which means he probably isn’t actually hiding anything important now. He’s just his usual infuriating self.

And god, but Steve's tired of fighting with him.

He just . . .wishes Tony would trust him enough to let him help.

After Vanaheim, for one, single moment, Steve let himself believe things would be all right. That the hug meant something. But clearly, only to him.

Maria Hill was right. Steve is the last person who should think about _handling_ Tony Stark.

He lands the jet at the helicarrier and immediately takes a flying car home. He’s not in a mood to talk to anyone and luckily there aren’t any missions requiring his direct oversight. He takes a shower, and he sleeps, and he dreams and wakes up with Tony’s name on his lips.

Damn that man.

And damn Steve, too, for never being able to quit Tony even when he really, really should.

He goes back to the Helicarrier in a terrible mood, hoping that at least Tony will return to New York soon and maybe, miraculously, they can actually _work_ on solving this problem together. (As if.)

He goes through his paperwork, too many documents to sign and too many reports to read, until his eyes burn and his back hurts. Even the serum isn’t enough to protect him from the dangers of desk work, it seems.

Steve glances at his watch. It’s almost noon. He expects a phone call from Tony any moment now.

And then an agent runs up to him and tells him the news, and Steve sighs, heavily, and thinks he really _shouldn’t_ be surprised.

***

When Steve finally sees Tony Stark in person, it’s in the SHIELD interrogation room. Tony’s wearing white shirtsleeves, his top button undone, and Steve stares. He wants to lick down Tony’s neck and hold his slender wrists in his hand and—

Tony’s sleeves are pulled up, his wrists cuffed together.

Steve used to connect _handcuffs_ and _Tony_ with _fun_. 

“Did you read a guide on how to act suspicious?” he asks idly, pushing the memories away. 

Tony looks up at him. “I wasn’t aware I did anything illegal,” he says.

“No, returning to the scene of the crime you’re accused of committing is perfectly normal.” Steve’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“ _Returning_ implies I’ve been there before. And it was you who told me to get back to New York, remember?”

He’s tense and he’s clearly not planning to meet Steve in the middle and Steve’s done, so very done.

“I trusted you,” he snaps. “I can see that was a mistake.”

Tony grows pale. The chain connecting the cuffs clangs as he moves his hands. Steve sees him digging his nails hard into the top of his left hand. “I didn’t kill him.”

 _I know_ , Steve thinks, _but I’m no longer sure you have no clue who did, either_.

“It’s not about what I believe,” Steve tells him. _Especially_ not when it’s about Steve wanting to believe Tony did or will do the right thing. The good thing. Most of the superhero community would laugh in his face. Most of the general community would, really, and sometimes Steve thinks it’s unfair to Tony, and sometimes he remembers the war and thinks he deserves nothing less, and sometimes, sometimes he finds himself holding Tony under arrest and unable to understand how they got there.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the top cop now?”

“You know something,” Steve says instead of letting Tony bait him. “ _Tell me_.”

“Not really.” Tony shrugs. “Your agents got me before I could finish my scans.”

Steve frowns. Tony can so engrossed in his work that he forgets the outside world, but it’s unusual for him to make a mistake like this. “Something distracted you?” he asks. A result Tony didn’t expect, perhaps?

“They’re good agents, Commander,” Tony says, and yes, yes they are. But this is Tony Stark. And . . . 

Steve _knows_ Tony, and he knows how personally he takes someone else using his tech, and he also knows Tony’s got a history with mind-control, even if he does consider that option rather unlikely this time. He knows Tony’s not a murderer; can’t be. But he’s not safe to be left alone, either.

And he can run in circles around anyone if he so wishes, but . . . Not Steve, maybe.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Steve says. “You are hiding something, Tony. I didn’t think you were back in Seattle, so you must’ve learnt something new.”

Tony’s face is a careful mask.

“I don’t think holding you in a cell will be beneficial to anyone here,” Steve continues. “But you’ve proved I can’t trust you.”

“Is there a point to this?” Tony asks, edge to his voice, almost like it _hurts_ him what Steve’s saying. Like he hasn’t done his best to push Steve away.

 _You’re a damn idiot, Rogers, you should take a clue and leave him_.

“Since I can’t keep you arrested and I can’t let you go, I will release you into _my_ custody.”

Tony actually laughs at him. Steve looks at him, impassive, and Tony calms down in seconds flat. “You’re serious.”

“Or you could tell me what this all is about,” Steve says. “Your decision, really.”

“Right,” Tony says, “We’re not even on the same team because we’d be a time bomb waiting to go off, and you want to put us in close proximity. That’s _great_ , what could possibly go wrong?” His voice goes increasingly higher.

“Let’s try not to start another war,” Steve tells him. “Come on.”

“What, like this?” Tony raises his hands.

“You’re a suspect,” Steve reminds him and turns to the exit. It’s a petty power play, but it makes him feel better.

***

“You know the Tower’s the other way,” Tony says from the passenger’s seat of the SHIELD-issued flying car.

“Yes, because I’d take you somewhere you literally built yourself,” Steve says. “We’re going to my place.” He realises what it sounds like too late, and he curses his light skin as he feels himself go red. He can see Tony turning to him in the corner of his eye, but he keeps his eyes steadily in front of him. 

“You didn’t even let me get my laptop.” Tony sounds irked, but that’s better than him commenting on the unintended double entendre. “What am I supposed to do?”

Steve shrugs with one arm. “Don’t you have two years of missing memories? Watch a movie you’ve forgotten. You did quite like _The Hobbit_ , I recall.”

“Steve Rogers,” Tony says in shock, “you did not just insult me like that.”

Steve chuckles, honestly amused for once. “True, you hated it,” he admits, and Tony settles. “You liked the new _Star Wars_ , though.”

“Hmm,” Tony says, but the atmosphere is lighter after that.

Steve lands the car on the roof of his building, for once enjoying that SHIELD owns it, and leads Tony out and then down a short flight of stairs. He unlocks his door and lets Tony in first, then makes sure to lock it again. Finally, they look at each other in the narrow hall of Steve’s flat. 

Tony extends his hands with an expectant look and Steve sighs. He fishes for the key in his pocket; SHIELD has handcuffs that open to his fingerprints, but nothing digital can be trusted to stop Tony, of course. He catches Tony by his wrist. He tells himself it’s to keep Tony’s hands from shaking, but his touch is too gentle, too caring; he can’t stop his fingers from curling around Tony’s wrist, remembering when he was allowed to do so. 

Tony looks at him with a weird expression that Steve can’t quite place. He’s seen it before, he knows, but nothing from _before_ fits in this tense, strained space between them now. 

He turns the key, and the lock opens with a quiet click. Steve can feel Tony’s pulse under his fingers, too rapid for a resting pulse; and Tony’s eyes are dark, his face only inches from Steve’s, and Steve can’t remember when they got so close. 

“Steve.” Even Tony’s voice is off, rough and raspy.

It’s enough to shake Steve out of his reverie, though; a shiver goes through his body and he steps away from Tony, hurriedly. “There,” he says, trying to sound normally, “all free now. _Inside here_.”

Tony doesn’t react for a few seconds; then he blinks, as if woken up. “Ah. Right. Thanks.”

“You know the layout,” Steve says awkwardly. “Make yourself at home.”

“Mm,” Tony says. “I visited a few times, didn’t I?” He toes off his shoes and heads for the kitchen, leaving Steve to stare after him, his face hot.

 _Visited_ is one word for it. Bringing Tony here was a _terrible_ idea. Steve should’ve chosen a SHIELD safehouse. Somewhere where he _doesn’t_ remember fucking Tony against the wall near the very entrance door he’s standing near to now; and over the kitchen table, one of the mugs clattering to the floor not enough to make either of them care; and on the sofa, in slow, languid motions; manoeuvring inside his shower to fit the both of them in, hands slippery on wet skin; too many times to count on his bed, so _useful_ with its metal frame; that one time they came back just after a fight and fucked right on the floor and got more bruises from that than from the villains. 

He wonders if Tony’s remembering all of it, too. He wonders if it meant half as much to Tony as it did to him.

 _It wasn’t about feelings_ , he reminds himself, but they were good friends back then, and it was only natural to seek out comfort with one another, their lives too busy for dating. They’ll be staying clothed now. Steve won’t repeat his mistakes. Tony’s shown how much he trusts Steve and cares for him, and that’s not much at all.

He forces himself to follow Tony inside his own flat and finds him in the kitchen, brewing himself a cup of coffee. A full mug is already on the table, just a drop of milk in it, like a peace offering. Or maybe Steve’s reading into it.

“How long do you plan to do this?” Tony asks quietly.

“That depends on you,” Steve answers. Tony drops the topic, after that. 

They drink their coffee at the kitchen table and it’s so _normal_ something inside Steve aches. _It’s all Tony’s fault_ , he thinks, viciously. His fault they’re not friends anymore and his fault that he’s being so difficult now and most of all, his fault that he doesn’t love Steve back.

At least he doesn’t give Steve any sort of false hope. His actions speak loud enough.

“Star Wars, then?” Tony asks when he sets his empty mug down.

“Star Wars,” Steve agrees, because there’s nothing else he can say. 

Watching _The Force Awakens_ with Tony is a weird experience, because Steve’s already done that once, has seen all of Tony’s reactions, knows his favourite parts and parts where he just rolls his eyes, and it’s exactly the same. It’s hard to remember that Tony is a very different man now when his eyes light up with childish joy at hearing _Chewie, we’re home_.

Steve should possibly focus on the movie more and on Tony’s reactions less.

There are differences: they’re sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, instead of Tony leaning into Steve’s side, a murmured _You’re warm_ as his excuse. Steve’s closed the blinds and the lights are off, but the RT in Tony’s chest is weakly illuminating the room anyway.

Steve wants to touch Tony so much and can’t. 

When the movie ends and the credits run across the screen, Tony turns to Steve, clearly intending to say something, but his mouth snaps shut when he looks at Steve. He turns back away, his shoulders hunched, and Steve feels an acute sense of loss. He wonders what caused Tony’s reaction until he looks down at himself and realises he’s wearing his uniform still.

But this is _work_. He’s not hanging out with his friend: he’s overseeing a man who’s a suspect and who used to be a friend but isn’t anymore, and probably never will be again.

Steve wants to punch something.

Tony gets up, stretches his arms. His shirt rides up, and Steve stares at his hipbones, the muscles flexing in his stomach . . . Tony lets his arms fall back down and Steve swallows, looks away.

It’s okay. He can do this. He can.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks. He’ll be a good host, even if the circumstances are what they are.

“Four stars prison, this,” Tony says like he’s reading Steve’s mind. “I can eat if you are. You have faster metabolism.”

Steve switches off the TV before pushing himself to his feet too. He flicks the light switch and squints for a moment while his eyes adapt to the light. Tony looks restless, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

They move at the same time; Steve planning to browse through some take-out menus he’s got stashed, Tony probably meaning to make himself another cup of coffee; it doesn’t really matter, because they crash into each other, and Steve catches Tony by his elbow to keep him on his feet, and Tony stabilises himself with a hand flat on Steve’s chest.

Tony’s eyes are very, very blue, his lashes ridiculously long, his mouth entirely too kissable, and they’re standing _too close_. (Even if sometimes it feels like merely existing in the same timeline is _too close_ ).

Steve’s already leaning in when Tony moves his hand to curl his fingers around his shoulder strap to pull him in for a kiss. Their lips clash against each other, neither of them wanting to give in, and it’s exactly as good as Steve remembers.

He turns them around and pushes Tony until his back hits the wall, breaks the kiss to suck at his neck instead. Tony sucks in a breath and leans his head to the side, giving Steve better access.

“I remember the last time we did this,” he gasps out.

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t.”

Tony’s nimble, clever fingers do a quick work of Steve’s belt, but instead of moving down, he just untucks the upper part of Steve’s uniform and pulls it up. Steve obediently pulls it all the way off, and then before he can go back to marking Tony’s neck, Tony moves on him and sucks at his collarbone, finding Steve’s nipple with his hand. “Tell me,” he asks.

Steve shakes his head again. The memories come anyway, unbidden and unwanted. The mansion in ruins around them, the war a dark reality they couldn’t quite push away. Tony’s kisses tasted like blood; there was a bruise blossoming at his jaw where Steve had punched him just moments ago. Steve’s own ribs hurt from being thrown down. There was more hate than love there.

Not that there’s any love here, now. Not that there’s ever been.

Steve hauls Tony up and kisses him before he can ask again. He claws at Tony’s shirt as Tony bites on his lip, and the material rips under his hands. He opens his mouth to apologise but Tony doesn’t seem to notice or mind, just plunges his tongue in, and Steve really has no problem with that. 

He picks Tony up, doesn’t need to tell him to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist. Tony’s heavier—the armour stored in his bones, presumably—but it’s not a problem for Steve’s strength. He carries him to the bed and sets him down, gently. The last time, the one Tony forgot, was anything but gentle; this time Steve will be so careful with Tony.

And he knows from _a lot_ of experience that Tony’s quiet in bed, but this just makes the challenge of making him chant Steve’s name so much better.

(He succeeds.)

Later, he falls asleep next to Tony, their hands tangled together, and he tells himself it means something.

***

Steve wakes up cold.

He must’ve fallen asleep on top of his sheets, that’s unusual—

He sits up. The other side of the bed, _Tony’s side_ , is very, very empty. 

Maybe he had to use the bathroom. Maybe he wanted a glass of water. Steve touches the mattress, and it’s cold. Maybe he realised what a monumentally stupid idea this was, and went to the sofa . . .

 _Don’t be even more of an idiot_ , he tells himself. He knows, with cold, terrible certainty, that Tony’s gone.

He wonders if Tony _planned_ it, but knows that couldn’t have been the case, Tony wouldn’t have done that, not to Steve and not to anyone. But that clearly didn’t stop Tony from using the situation, _using Steve_ , and Steve’s mad at him and at himself. He punches the bed, but his mattress is too soft for it to be satisfactory. 

He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Tony, not sleep with him and lose him, for fuck’s sake. _Commander Rogers_ , what a pathetic joke. Steve’s supposed to be better than this.

But he never is when it’s about Tony.

 _Fuck_.

He walks around his flat, but everything’s as they left it. Steve’s uniform trousers are strewn on the ground near the bed; Tony’s are gone. The top part of Steve’s suit is in the living room, next to Tony’s ripped shirt. He kicks it, annoyed.

The two coffee mugs still stand on the kitchen table. The door is locked. 

_Considerate, Tony_ , Steve thinks bitterly.

What a colossally bad idea all of this was.

Steve grabs at his comm. “Stark’s gone,” he barks.

“Rogers?” Maria Hill talks. “ _How_?”

“Start looking for him,” Steve orders instead of answering. He dreads going back to the helicarrier, but he will find Tony and this time he’ll lock him in the darkest cell they have.

***

As much as he wants it to be, as much as he wants to redirect all his field agents to the one task, finding Tony Stark can’t actually be SHIELD’s priority. It shouldn’t even be _his_ priority, but that’s not going to change.

Maria Hill is stealing sidelong looks at him, and he wonders if she can guess at what happened between him and Tony. _Hopefully not_. She does at least oversee the other operations while Steve tries to pinpoint Tony’s location. _Damn this man and damn his cloaking tech_.

Then a mission in Madripoor goes terrifyingly wrong and Steve has to fly there to help with extraction, because whatever else Tony Stark might make him do, he won’t stop him from saving his people’s lives.

When Steve’s back a day later, aching and annoyed, dreaming only about taking a shower, Maria Hill welcomes him with a grim expression. “We’ve got another body, found eight hours ago,” she says without any preamble. “Basil Sandhurst aka the Controller.”

“ _Great_ ,” Steve says. “Order the agents to leave the scene.” He gets the co-ordinates for the scene, and walks right back into the quinjet he’s just left.

Tony must’ve known the unguarded scene was a bait, but he _is_ right there when Steve lands. Steve wonders what he’s looking for at the murder scenes of his villains that he risks so much, so stupidly.

Still, this just makes things easier for Steve.

“Don’t make—” Tony’s armoured up, but he stops the sentence in half when he sees Steve emerge.

“Stand down, Stark,” Steve says grimly.

Tony doesn’t, and Steve’s _done_. If Tony wanted trust, he wouldn’t have left.

“Armour override,” Steve says, “34-44-54-64. Steve Rogers. Armour order: disassemble. Armour order: disable.”

The armour bleeds back into Tony’s bones, leaving him staring at Steve in shock. “You—”

Tony’s wearing a too-big-for-him t-shirt that Steve knows all too well from his own wardrobe, like a final slap to the face.

“Hands, Stark,” Steve orders. Tony hesitates, and for a moment Steve wonders if he’ll make him force him, but logical calculations must win. Tony doesn’t stand a chance like that. He extends his hands, and Steve cuffs him in cold, efficient movements. He grabs him by his arm, rough, and leads him inside the quinjet. It’s a SHIELD quinjet, and there’s a holding cell there, so Steve throws Tony in and doesn’t look back.

He walks back out to gather the laptop Tony had there along with some scanners Steve doesn’t recognise, and then he flies them all back to the helicarrier. He orders other agents to move Tony from the quinjet cell to a more secure one in the helicarrier.

“And remember, no tech,” he says.

He goes to his office. Tony must expect him to show up immediately, so Steve will make him wait. He won’t dance to his tune anymore.

***

Steve showers, finally, changes into a fresh uniform, and fills out paperwork about Madripoor before caving and going to see Tony.

It’s like a distorted reflection of the time Director Stark came to visit Steve in his cell, and everything about this situation is wrong. It hurts to look inside and see Tony wearing his clothes like they were lovers, like Tony didn’t just use him every time it was convenient to him. 

“Commander,” Tony says when Steve remains silent.

“Let us examine your tech,” Steve says without any preamble. They have two of Tony’s laptops now, Stark Resilient made, and his scientists can’t even power them up.

“No,” Tony answers, easily, without hesitation, as if he were negotiating a business agreement he didn’t care for and not sitting cuffed in the helicarrier holding cell.

“If you’re innocent—”

“I already told you I am.” There’s an edge to Tony’s voice.

“Unlock your laptop.”

Tony laughs in his face. “Sorry, _Steve_ , I don’t trust SHIELD with my designs.”

Steve wants to open the cell, get inside, and shake that damn man, but he’s very much intent on never touching him again. “I’m SHIELD these days.”

“And I can see how much you trust me,” Tony agrees, raising his wrists to illustrate his point, like he has any ground to stand on there.

“You _left_ ,” Steve accuses, somehow managing not to yell.

Tony’s face screws, as if in pain. “I didn’t _want_ to,” he says. “But it was important.”

“It always is, with you! The SHRA was important, _keeping it secret_ most of all!”

“I want to solve this as much as you do,” Tony says. “And I _could—_ ”

“Tell me what you know,” Steve cuts in. He won’t listen to Tony’s excuses anymore.

“I can’t.” He sounds like he thinks that’s good enough for Steve.

“I will charge you with obstructing justice,” Steve threatens. 

“And what, put me in the Raft for it?” Tony taunts.

“If you make me,” Steve replies. He’s not even sure he wouldn’t, right this moment. Maybe a jail for supervillains is exactly where Tony belongs.

Tony’s silent, and Steve walks out.

***

“You handle him now,” he says to Maria Hill, and that’s it.

He’s not gonna suffer for Tony Stark again.

***

It’s almost two days of not thinking ( _stop lying, Rogers_ ) of Tony later when the alarms at the helicarrier sound in the _unauthorised entry_ tune. Steve runs to the control centre, cursing everything, hoping this is _not_ Tony Stark doing what he does best, which is breaking out of captivity, always, no matter the odds.

Later, he’ll marvel at the irony.

It takes him less than a minute to reach the security room, but by the time he makes it there, the alarms turn off.

“What’s going on?”

“Unauthorised teleportation, sir,” agent Rame replies. “In and out.”

 _In and out_.

“Show me,” Steve says. With how fast everything’s happened, it’ll be quicker than listening to the report anyway.

The agent hesitates.

“ _Now_ ,” Steve snaps.

She swallows visibly and puts the surveillance video on the biggest screen.

It _is_ the feed from Tony’s cell, because _of fucking course_. But Tony’s just sitting at the bench, staring into space. Calculating, most likely. Then there’s an explosion of light, and when the recording clears out, Steve sees—

“ _Fuck_.”

There’s a Captain America in the cell with Tony now. The uniform is different to any Steve had ever worn, but it’s clearly Steve Rogers under the cowl. He can recognize himself. Tony looks startled, and he gets up, raising his hands protectively in front of himself. 

Captain America grins. He advances on Tony, and Tony has nowhere to go. Captain America puts his hands on Tony’s shoulders, and then he leans in and kisses him, hard. Steve’s relieved to see Tony tries to kick him off, but it doesn’t work. Moments later, the man moves away, hauls off, and punches Tony in the face.

Tony goes limp.

Another splash of whiteness, and they’re gone.

Steve tastes blood and realises he’s bitten through his own lip.

“Sir?” the agent asks.

But Steve’s already on the way out, barking orders into his comm for the investigation team to get to the cells level, _now_.

The doors are still locked when Steve gets to what was Tony’s cell and is now an empty mockery. He wants to unlock it and get inside, but he stops himself before putting the key into the lock. It was some kind of a teleportation machine. There might be radiation left to gauge or, better, some way to track and follow that Captain America and Tony.

The man must’ve been from alternate reality, Steve thinks grimly. Skrulls don’t operate this way.

But that still leaves Steve with nothing, because he’s got no idea how to get to Tony. Yes, Tony _is_ great at getting out of bad situations, but Steve disabled the armour himself.

God, he was such an idiot.

What could the rogue Captain America possibly want to do with Tony?

One answer presents itself immediately, the image of the man with Steve’s face kissing Tony carved into Steve’s mind forever.

Steve wants to scream.

The investigation team makes it to the cell then, followed by Maria Hill, and Steve watches them scan everything and can do nothing but wait for answers, helpless, mad, and worried.

***

It turns out the teleportation device left the same kind of energy they measured at both murder scenes, which doesn’t improve Steve’s mood any. His agents are pretty sure the device is alternate Tony’s work, too, which would explain the tech they found, and which makes everything worse. Where is this other Steve’s Tony? Helping his Steve, or the contrary?

Steve sits in his office and stares at the surveillance video: Tony’s surprise, Tony fighting the kiss, Tony getting knocked out; and hatred for the other Steve grows and festers in his heart. 

Maria Hill is assembling the Avengers, but Steve’s not sure how he can look his friends in the face and admit he misjudged Tony and got him in danger, all because he couldn’t listen to the simple truth that when it comes to Tony Stark, he’s beyond compromised. 

Tony will never love him back, but Steve never wanted him _hurt_. 

“They’re here, Commander.” Maria Hill stands in the doorway. 

“What about Richards?” If anyone could track Tony, it’ll be him, but when Steve called the Baxter Building no one had picked up.

“Still nothing.”

Does Reed have to be gone _now_?

Steve makes his way to the conference room. Ms. Marvel, technically on Luke’s team, is there; she must’ve been with Spider-Woman when they got the call. Wolverine looks bored already, Thor to his left, and Spider-Man is sitting on the wall opposite Hawkeye.

Steve swallows. “Tony got kidnapped,” he says, not willing to lose time for greeting everyone. 

They all burst into questions, and Steve raises his hand to get them to quiet. “It’s my fault,” he says. 

“Start at the beginning, Steve,” Ms. Marvel says, not unkindly, and Steve nods and tells them _mostly_ everything.

“Can’t blame you for not trusting him,” Spider-Man mutters. Ms. Marvel gives him a glare, but aside from her and Thor everyone seems to be sharing the sentiment.

“Any clue where they could be?” Spider-Woman asks.

Steve shakes his head. “That alternate Captain America is using Tony’s cloaking tech. Alternate Tony’s, that is.”

“And he can teleport,” Hawkeye says. “They could be _anywhere_.”

“I know,” Steve snaps. “But you’re the Avengers.”

“ _We are_ ,” Thor corrects him. “We’ll find Anthony.”

Steve thanks him with a nod. “I tried to contact Reed, but the Fantastic Four are away again.”

“Okay,” Ms. Marvel says. “I’ll get in touch with Stephen. Maybe he could help.”

“Stark would love being saved by magic,” Spider-Man says. “Can you give me his laptops? I might be able to hack in.”

“All yours,” Steve says. “I’m guessing Tony was working on a localisation programme, if he kept returning to the murder scenes.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to finish it,” Spider-Man says.

“I’ll look for him on the ground,” Wolverine grunts.

Spider-Woman and Hawkeye look at each other. “Us too,” she says.

Steve looks at Thor, who shrugs. The both of them can really only wait. 

“Thank you all,” Steve says.

“He’s our friend,” Ms. Marvel replies, and they go.

“Worry not,” Thor says. “It is Anthony. He will likely save himself before we find him.”

***

Steve calls every shady contact he can think of, every person he never wants to owe a favour to, and then Deadpool, and no one gives him any answers; less than that, no one even _suggests_ they can help.

He watches the surveillance video again and prays the other Steve only needs Tony to build him tech, the way so many others have tried before him.

He watches it again and he thinks he will _kill_ the other Steve if he laid a finger on Tony.

He watches it again and sees Tony struggle and closes his fists tight.

 _Your fault, Steve_.

He watches it again, and then someone turns his screen off.

Steve looks up to see Thor. “He will be fine.”

“He’ll _survive_ ,” Steve corrects him. Tony always does. “But I think he hasn’t been fine in a long time.”

Thor nods, thoughtful. “I met him after your war,” he says. “I am not proud of the way I acted towards him, though I do believe I did exactly what he wanted me to do.” He sighs. “Anthony made many mistakes, but I have never seen him act the way he did when he thought you were dead.”

Steve’s eyes burn. 

_Tony doesn’t care_ , he tells himself, but there is a reason why he forgot all of it, isn’t there?

Steve will go crazy if he sits here one more moment, doing _nothing_. “Spar with me,” he says. “I can’t sit here and—”

Everything goes white.

When he regains his vision, the helicarrier alarms are going off again, and there’s a Tony Stark standing in his office. He blinks a few times.

“Well,” he says, hiding something in his pocket, “You’re not the Steve I was looking for.”

Steve’s on him in less than a second, his photoshield ready to strike.

“I’m unarmed, Captain,” Tony says, standing very still, his eyes blue and calm in face of Steve attacking him.

There’s a flash of memories in Steve’s mind: _the other Steve, kissing Tony, and then punching him unconscious_.

Steve’s not like that.

“If you’re unarmed then I’ve gone evil,” he says, stepping back and waiting for Tony’s reaction. If he shouldn’t be trusted . . . Steve knows Thor has his back.

Tony bites on his lip, and then he speaks, quietly, “My Steve just might have.”

That does answer Steve’s most immediate question.

“We are looking for him too,” Thor says.

Tony winces. “What has he done?”

“Can you find him?” Steve demands to know first.

Tony nods. “Yes, but I will need to scan you first and get my algorithm to ignore you.” He visibly steels himself. “Tell me what he did first.”

“He killed two people,” Steve says, seeing no point in trying to be gentle about it, “and then he kidnapped _my_ Tony.”

Except not his, never really his.

The Tony in front of him hangs his head low. “These people,” he says. “They wouldn’t happen to be old villains of your Tony?”

“Is this not the first time?” Steve snaps.

Tony shakes his head immediately. “No. It’s—he’s—he’s not like that.” He looks around the room, avoiding Steve’s eyes. “It’s my fault.”

Steve’s first thought is, _Of course_. The second makes him ashamed. _You haven’t trusted your Tony and see where it got you_.

Thor coughs. “I’ll call the team back.” He leaves the room.

Steve doesn’t tear his eyes away from Tony. “Talk to me.”

Tony nods, but doesn’t say anything for a long while. Steve just watches him: he’s wearing black trousers and dress shoes, white shirtsleeves with a blue tie, like he’s been to a gala. There isn’t anything immediately obvious set in his chest, the only visible difference between him and Steve’s Tony.

“He thinks I’m dead,” he lets out finally. “I _made_ him think I’m dead.”

Steve recoils. “What.”

“I had to,” Tony says. “It’s a long story. It was important that Tony Stark seem gone. But Steve . . . Steve didn’t take it well.”

Steve closes his eyes and doesn’t think of what would happen to him if Tony were gone.

“Why didn’t you warn him?”

“I was trying to save him!” Tony replies in anguish.

“Great way to do it!” Steve yells.

He expects Tony to yell back, but the man just shakes his head. “I know,” he mutters. “When I went back, he was gone. Jumped to another universe. He told Sam something about keeping me safe in other worlds. I worked on finding him the moment I heard it, but . . .”

“Keeping you _safe_ ,” Steve quotes. Tony nods. Steve beckons at him, switches his screen back on, and shows Tony the surveillance video.

“Safe even from myself, I’d hazard,” he whispers. He’s visibly shaking now. “I need to help him.”

“I need to help my Tony,” Steve says.

“So we have to work together.” Tony’s looking at him, pleading. His eyes are glassy, but he’s holding the tears in. “I’ll get you your Tony back. You must be worried. And then I’ll take Steve home.”

That man killed two people in their world and took Tony from him, but Steve knows he can’t refuse. He _does_ need help, and if he says no, he will just have to fight alternate Steve and Tony both. And really, sending the other Steve back where he came from is the easiest solution from Steve’s point of view.

“All right.”

Tony exhales, relieved. Only now does he raise his hand to wipe at his eyes, and Steve notices with something approaching horror the wedding band on his finger.

What will it _ever_ take for Tony to trust him?

***

Several hushed discussions with the returned team and many _are you sure you can trust him_ later, Steve lets the newly arrived Tony scan him. His device is a palm-sized oval disc that apparently doubles as a teleporter. He’s clearly put his focus in a different field than Tony.

“Done,” he says, and then he taps on the surface and a holographic screen pops up. Spider-Man comes closer to take a look. 

“How long do you—” Steve doesn’t even finish the question when the device beeps loudly. 

“Got him,” Tony says. He looks uneasy. “This can take four people only, though.”

Steve knows what the wise thing to do would be: get the coordinates, fly in a quinjet, _waste more time_. And if they go in the quinjet, the other Steve will have time to run again. No, they have to teleport too. 

“Any word from Strange, Ms. Marvel?” Steve asks just to make sure.

She shakes her head grimly.

“Give us the coordinates,” Steve orders.

Tony copies them to Spider-Man’s laptop quickly. “New Jersey outskirts,” Spider-Man comments after running localisation.

“Not far, then. Thor, Ms. Marvel and I will teleport with Tony here. The rest of you, follow in the quinjet after we leave.”

“And if he takes you god knows where?” Spider-Woman demands.

“Then I think me and the two strongest Avengers are enough to convince him to come back,” Steve replies.

“I want to get my Steve as much as you want to get your Tony,” Tony tells them. “I’m not lying.”

“Carol, Thor?” Steve asks. “This okay with you?”

“Are you trying to insult me?” Ms. Marvel crosses her arms. Thor just gives Steve a look.

“Then let’s go.”

Tony hides the holoscreen of his device and activates it.

***

They find themselves in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Steve immediately zeroes in on Tony: tied to a chair, looking haggard but unharmed aside from the bruise on his jaw, and the other Steve kneeling next to him, his hand cupping his cheek ever so gently. 

Before Steve can throw himself at the man, the alternate Tony steps forward. “Winghead,” he says. “Let him go.”

The other Steve immediately gets up and whirls around, his eyes wide. “What kind of a trick—”

“I’m okay, Steve,” the other Tony says. “I’ve been okay all this time. I’m sorry.”

“ _I buried you_ ,” Steve lets out, his voice breaking. “You’re gone. You—I know it’s not you!”

The other Tony taps at his ring, once; it lights up. An answering light shines on the other Steve’s hand.

He looks at it like he’s seen all his hopes and dreams come to life at once, like it’s a miracle he desperately wants to believe in and is scared of letting himself trust.

He shakes his head. “You were _dead_.” He’s shivering all over now, and Steve feels something tight in his chest. He doesn’t want to witness this.

“I’m sorry,” the other Tony repeats. “I love you so much.”

“Why,” the other Steve says, his voice breaking on the single syllable. 

“Let’s go home,” the alternate Tony says.

The other Steve slides down to his knees. He’s facing down, but his shoulders are shaking, his sobs clearly heard. His Tony all but runs to him, gathers him in his arms. He whispers something in his ear, too low for Steve to hear, stroking his hands up and down Steve’s back.

Steve looks away. This is not his to see. Thor is watching him intently, but Ms. Marvel’s eyes are on Tony only, making sure he’s okay.

The three of them approach Tony together and Steve cuts his ties. “Are you okay?” he asks, so inadequate in the face of what’s happening.

Tony finally also tears his eyes from the scene playing out next to him. “Yeah.”

He gets up, clearly too fast; he sways on his legs and Steve supports him immediately. “ _Tony_.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Tony says. He doesn’t try to stand on his own, though, instead staying leaning into Steve. 

_He kissed you_ , Steve wants to say, but that’s a conversation that should wait until they’re alone.

“You sure you’re not hiding any injuries, Tony?” Ms. Marvel clearly doesn’t mean to wait.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Thor backs her up.

“I’m _fine_ , Carol, Thor.”

Next to them, the other Tony, his arms still securely wrapped around his Steve, looks up. His face is streaked with tears. “I’m gonna take us home. Thank you.”

Steve just nods. He covers Tony’s eyes and closes his own, this time prepared for the explosion of light; when he opens them again, the other Steve and Tony are gone.

Tony pushes himself away, then. “My armour, Commander.”

Ah. They’re back to that. Steve can’t blame him.

“34-44-54-64,” Steve recites. “Armour override: cancel previous commands.”

Tony stands straighter, his armour flowing over his body. He doesn’t put the helmet on, but he stands in the armour, clearly only now actually feeling _safe_.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, having to look up now to meet Tony’s eyes.

Tony nods.

“Now what? Should we just fly back? Armour computer says we’re in New Jersey.”

“The rest of the team will be back soon with the quinjet,” Ms. Marvel says. “It’ll be more comfortable for Steve.”

“Great,” Tony mutters. “Can _I_ go, then?”

 _Med-check first_ , Steve wants to say, but the words die on his tongue. He’s done enough ordering Tony around lately. 

“Yes.”

Both Ms. Marvel and Thor give him a worried look at that.

“But—can I talk to you? Tomorrow maybe?”

Tony tilts his head. “I’ll be in Seattle.”

“I can go there.” As Tony well knows.

“Bring my laptops, then.”

“I will.”

Tony looks to Ms. Marvel and Thor, then. “Thanks for coming to save me. Sorry it was necessary.”

“Dumbhead,” Ms. Marvel tells him. He grins at her, honest in a way he hasn’t been with Steve in too long, and then he leaves the warehouse. 

Steve can hear the repulsors powering up and disappearing in the distance.

***

Steve flies to Seattle in the SHIELD quinjet, because he has no other choice, but he changes out of his uniform into civilian clothes. This is very much a private matter.

Most of what is going on between him and Tony is, in hindsight.

Maria Hill wasn’t happy with him about leaving the other Steve go, but even she had to admit it was an easier solution than trying to contain Steve’s counterpart, especially when the other Tony Stark wanted to take him away.

The flight is both too long—he wants to see Tony _now_ , damn it—and too short: he still doesn’t know what to say to Tony. _I’m sorry_ is a start, but the fact is that Tony _could’ve_ talked to him. Steve knows one thing only: he doesn’t want to argue with him again. He’s pretty sure he’ll fail at that.

He lands in front of Tony’s house in the early afternoon. Tony doesn’t come out to greet him, today, instead opting to wait in his doorway. Steve grabs the two laptops he confiscated and takes a deep breath before walking to him.

“Hi,” he says.

Tony looks better than yesterday: he’s clean shaved, seems like he’s gotten some sleep, and he’s wearing fresh clothes: just jeans and a tank top, but clean and soft-looking. Steve longs to touch him and is grateful that he literally can’t while holding two computers. The bruise on Tony’s face is smaller today but still an uncomfortable reminder of what happened, a bandage plastered over the worst of it where his skin was cut.

“Come in,” he says. He takes the laptops when Steve proffers them. “Should I expect a SHIELD bug?”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve says sharply.

Tony sighs. “I know. Bad joke.” He sets them on a table in the corridor, then goes to the left. Steve finds himself in a large living room with a big TV dominating most of one wall, comfortable looking armchairs next to it. “Do you want something to drink?” Tony asks.

“I’m fine,” Steve says. He doesn’t want more delays. He wants to get this over with, like ripping off a bandaid.

Tony nods. He remains standing, so Steve doesn’t sit either. Better to stay at the same level. It’ll be a difficult enough talk already.

“So,” Tony starts.

“I am sorry for not trusting you,” Steve says. “Really.”

Tony huffs a laugh. “But.”

Steve almost grins. Tony does know him well. “ _But_ you could’ve—should’ve talked to me.”

“It’s hard,” Tony admits. “After the war. With everything I don’t remember and you do.”

“Tony, I want us to be friends.” _More than_.

Tony crosses his arms in front of himself. “So do I.” He looks at Steve, serious. “I didn’t know what was going on at first. I just—well, I panicked, thinking about someone armed with my weapons going around killing people.”

Steve stops himself from repeating _you should’ve asked for help instead of pushing me away_.

“And after the second murder?”

“Ah.” Tony looks away. “I had an inkling. I wasn’t _sure_ , not at all, but I thought alternate realities might be involved, and, well—I was trying to protect you. Can’t be nice to see yourself like that.”

“Protect me,” Steve says flatly. “Like this other Tony tried to protect his Steve by faking his own death.”

“Is that what he did?” Tony shakes his head. “I’m sure he had good reasons.” He sounds like he believes it, too, like it makes sense to him, and maybe it does, maybe there’s just no way any Steve Rogers will ever truly be able to understand any Tony Stark.

“ _Tony_.”

Tony raises his hands in front of himself, like stopping an argument before it even starts. “I won’t lie to you. I will do a great many things if I think it’s in your best interest.”

 _Why_ , Steve longs to ask.

“I don’t want that,” he insists. “I just want you to _trust me_.”

Tony runs his hand through his hair. “I do. You have my overrides.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve mutters.

Tony shakes his head sharply at that. “I know what I’m capable of, Steve. And you said it yourself. I was mindcontrolled in the past. You _must_ be able to stop me.”

Steve swallows. That’s true, but he doesn’t _like_ how he’s used his override, most recently. That’s on him only, though. 

“That other Steve,” he starts to say. “He kissed you.”

Tony winces. “You saw that.”

“Tony, I have to ask. Did he—”

“I told you the truth,” Tony interrupts. “He hadn’t hurt me beyond what happened in the cell. He— _God, Steve_. He wanted to _hold my hand_. He was so completely out of it.” He presses his hands to his temples as if staving off a headache. “He killed people he thought were endangering me, and then he kidnapped me from your cell and punched me, and then he said _he wanted to keep me safe_. He was unhinged. I . . .” His voice breaks. “He kidnapped me and I almost felt _sorry_ for him, can you imagine that?”

“They’re married,” Steve says. “I don’t know if you noticed, but . . .”

Tony shivers. “Good to think we can’t get it right between us no matter how we go about it, right?” He sounds as miserable as Steve feels. “Which reminds me, ah, I washed your t-shirt, you can take it when you go.”

Steve decides to take the plunge. “Or you could keep it.”

Tony looks up, sharply. “Steve?”

Steve walks closer to him, stops an arm’s length away. “This thing we’ve been doing.”

Tony raises his eyebrow. “That’s called sex, old man.”

Steve waves the words away. He’s trying to be serious. “We said _no feelings_.”

“I remember,” Tony says, his voice cold. He’s retreating, pulling his masks up, and Steve can’t let him do that, not yet.

He steels himself. He’s still almost completely sure he’s about to be rejected, but _these other Steve and Tony had something_ , and maybe—just maybe—him and Tony could try, too. Maybe they’d get it better. They fought a war, but it didn’t ruin them. Not completely. “I was so mad at you for lying to me,” Steve admits. “But I’ve been lying all this time, too. It was never just sex for me.”

Tony’s staring at him, for once struck speechless.

“I know you didn’t want more—I was telling myself I didn’t either, because I didn’t want to be honest even with myself. I just wanted you whatever way you’d have me.”

“Steve, you . . .”

“Everything with you has always been personal,” Steve says, and then he reaches out his hand. “The truth is . . . I love you, Tony Stark.”

For a long, terrible moment, Tony says nothing, does nothing, looks like he doesn’t even breathe.

And then he still doesn’t say anything, but he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand in his. He runs his fingers over Steve’s palm, ever so gently, down his knuckles to fingertips before sliding his fingers between Steve’s and holding on.

“They broke themselves, Steve.” He sounds wretched.

“We’ve been through worse. We’re still here.”

“And I have a two-years gap in my memory to show for it.” But he only holds Steve’s hand stronger. Like he _does_ want it, as much as Steve does, against everything.

“Tony . . .”

“I love you,” Tony lets out. “I—I’ve never expected I’d say it out loud. It’s just been a _fact_. For so long.”

Steve pulls him in, doesn’t let his hand go, but wraps his other arm around Tony and holds him close.

“Do you think they’ll work it out?” Tony asks quietly.

Steve shrugs. “They have each other.” And he knows he can forgive Tony _a lot_. 

“They do,” Tony echoes. “You know, I expected we’d just yell at each other today.”

“We’re good at that,” Steve agrees.

“Too good,” Tony says. “But you wouldn’t be you if you ever agreed with me.”

Steve pokes him in his ribs. “That’s the other way round.”

“See,” Tony says triumphantly. “We agree now, though.”

Steve doesn’t answer in words. He kisses Tony instead, soft and slow, putting all the love he’s been trying to hide from Tony into it—

And then he moves back. “God, Tony, I—your jaw is still bruised, I didn’t want to hurt you—”

“You haven’t.” Tony’s voice bears no discussion.

He kisses Steve as if to prove his words, full of passion, his fingers digging into Steve’s back, holding on like his life depends on it. Steve can understand that: he feels like he couldn’t survive if he let Tony go right now, either; or ever again, really. 

They break the kiss to breathe, and Steve scans the room. The floor is cold tiles, but the armchair will do—

“I have a bed,” Tony laughs, like he can read Steve’s mind. Then again, they have a lot of experience reading each other when it comes to sex, the one place aside from battlefield when they don’t need to work on communication.

Steve picks him up, bridal style, and Tony only protests a bit before giving him directions—corridor, stairs up, door on the right. He sits Tony at the edge and goes to his knees in front of him and Tony laughs again, carefree and happy, until Steve makes him moan instead.

Later, when they’re both spent and boneless, Steve wraps his arms tight around Tony. They love each other and he trusts Tony, and _he doesn’t want to wake up alone again_.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony says, but he lies on top of Steve happily enough. “I’m sorry I left then.”

“I know,” Steve tells him, and he does. He drifts off readily enough, content and warm in Tony’s presence.

Tony’s still there when he wakes up, just like he promised, tracing lazy shapes on Steve’s skin. 

“It’s like a dream,” he mutters. “Or a fairy-tale. All that suffering for a happy ending.”

“This is not the end,” Steve promises. “It’s just the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> There are also tumblr posts for the fic and art if you want to like or reblog them :)
> 
> \- [the art post on tumblr](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/post/179973768574/lose-my-heart-again-each-time-i-hear-your-name-by)  
> \- [the fic post on tumblr](https://laireshi.tumblr.com/post/180154571392/marvel-bang-lose-my-heart-again-each-time-i-hear)


End file.
